


What Are You Trying to Accomplish Here?

by yokomya



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-22 18:26:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3738859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yokomya/pseuds/yokomya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So you’re acting like a maniac, trying to kill yourself, and you’re running around the goddamn streets at four in the morning but you don’t want to tell your family. Is that right?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ian said simply like it should have been obvious and Mickey was about to fly off the handle.  Mickey had to move away and collect himself so he didn't knock him out for being so stupid.</p><p>"So what?  What do you want from me?"</p><p>Ian was hesitant but he answered, "I just wanted to be near you for a bit."</p><p>Post 5x12.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rain, Snow, and Moonlight

Mickey wasn’t sure where he was.

The sound around him was dull, there was a light feeling in his body as if he was on air, and he couldn’t tell  if he was even breathing. It must have been what dying felt like. Then something cold and wet hit the tip of his nose and his fingers twitched. Another drop hit his cheek this time and rolled down slowly until it fell from his face.

_Too much is wrong with me._

Then his vision started to go into focus and there was suddenly concrete at his feet and air in his lungs and he could see the gray sky turning darker and feel the rain dripping from above all over him. His jacket was soaked and he was shivering and feeling the freezing cold around him, seeing clearly the smoke from his breath in front of him. He was standing in an alley, in the rain, staring at a brick wall with the taste of alcohol on his tongue and shattered glass by his shoes.

_That’s the problem, isn’t it?_

When he finally registered what little he could, Mickey turned around and stumbled slowly out of the alleyway, finding himself on a street he knew all too well. Was he drunk or buzzed or sober? He couldn’t tell what his body was feeling or how his mind could be racing and numb all at the same time. It had been weeks but to Mickey it was only seconds since he was running down this sidewalk and chasing after something he was losing desperately. In the end he lost Ian because Ian himself was lost and how could Mickey be free again after being thrown aside? It took so long for him to realize who he was and who he wanted to be and it was all thanks to that redhead he was in love with and now he couldn’t seem to find that part of himself again. All of that happiness Ian seemed to drag out of Mickey was buried back where it belonged.

Mickey was aimlessly walking, further along an unknown path until it was too late. He was at the Gallagher’s door steps, with a sick feeling in his stomach and he wondered if he might have drank too much or if this was even real at all. All he wanted to do was see Ian and make sure he was fine. That’s what he told himself as he stood there, letting the rain drench him. Ian was fine, wasn’t he? He let Mickey go so he could get better. Ian was fine without Mickey. Shouldn’t Mickey be okay with that? Ian would be doing so much better without him.

Then why was Mickey reaching out a shaky hand? Why was he so close to shouting Ian’s name out? His throat closed up when the door flew open, revealing just the person he wanted to see. In an instant, Mickey dropped his hand and backed away because Ian’s gaze was doing something to him that hurt and felt good all at the same time.

“Mickey?”

It all came back to him and his eyes widened and the water seemed to hit him harder as Ian fumbled for the doorknob, shutting the door behind him. Then he was peering down at his former lover and there was more clarity in his eyes than before, not that cloudiness that came with the depression Ian was facing and Mickey wondered if it was just because he was in the manic stage now. On and off for how long? Years? Was he even taking the medication yet?

_You can’t fix me because I’m not broken._

Mickey didn’t have any excuse or anything witty to say so he just backed away further and stalked back the way he came from, his lips quivering and his breath hitching when a hand pulled him back by the sleeve.

“Mickey. . ?”

Mickey tried to shake the hand off, resisting the urge to give in to Ian whose voice sounded genuinely worried and upset. Why would Ian sound upset? It’s not like he was the one whose heart got stepped on and he wasn’t the one drinking himself to death over it or wandering all over the fucking town like a lost puppy who had been kicked too many times. How could he have let this happen? He was such an idiot for coming here.

“Wait, don’t go,” Ian called softly and followed Mickey, keeping close enough behind to make Mickey anxious. That uncomfortable need resurfacing itself, the need to be touched and to touch and to feel like he could be safe and be in love and like he deserved to be cared for.

“Go the fuck home,” Mickey snapped, feeling himself bristle when Ian’s fingers brushed against his back for the slightest moment.

“You came for a reason, didn’t you?” Ian challenged and it was confident, like the old Ian who stood up to Mickey and there was a spark between them, brief, and then gone.

It was so silly, running away from Ian even though he was the one that sought him out in the first place. He couldn’t help that he still had those desires and those feelings that wouldn’t fucking disappear. He couldn’t get rid of those urges to help Ian and no matter how much he tried to blame him for breaking his heart, he had as much love and care for him as he did all this time.

“I said fucking get out of here, Gallagher.”

It was harsh and he hoped that Ian would take the hint that he wanted nothing to do with him, or at least he wanted that to be true.

“No,” Ian said, speeding up so he could keep up with Mickey, “I wanted to hear you and see you and now that you’re here I can’t let you go.”

“Sure did a great job with that the first time.”

“Mickey, please.”

Ian pleading was hard on Mickey’s ears but he chose to ignore it and didn’t let his legs stop moving forward. Stumbling a bit, head throbbing, Mickey reached up to touch his temple and winced at the pain. It was probably just the alcohol, Mickey thought, and when he stopped to catch his balance there was a soft touch at the side of his face.

“I’m all messed up, Mick.”

Looking up, Mickey stared into pretty blue eyes and felt Ian caressing his cheek like nothing happened. It was gentle and painful and Mickey wanted to flinch or move closer or do fucking something but he was planted right where he was, under the spell of the other.

“I hate myself for hurting you and right now I feel you and want you but tomorrow I might not.”

“What the fuck?” Mickey blurted out because how was he supposed to respond to that? How could he react to being reminded that he wasn’t wanted again?

“What do I do? I can’t take care of myself and I can’t take care of you. What do I do, huh, Mick?”

Mickey was cold and wet and wanted nothing more than to sink into Ian’s warmth but it was stinging where Ian touched and he didn’t know what would happen if he got closer. Ian was Ian now and maybe the Ian who was fucked up and did stupid shit was Ian too. Even though Mickey accepted that and was willing to be with him, he was completely rejected before. Now here Ian was tugging him in the wrong direction, like it was Mickey’s choice in the first place.

“I told you I would fucking do it.”

Ian blinked back, excited that Mickey was responding to him. “Do what?”

“Take care of you. You threw that in my face and I’m not doing it again.”

Then Mickey was able to move away finally and this time Ian didn’t chase after him.

 

In the frigid morning, Mickey was breathing heavily, shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets and making his way, almost merrily, down the white road. There was snow falling onto the houses and to the asphalt, creating a thin blanket that made a silent and serene atmosphere around him, enclosing him into his own world for a little while. The sky was a blend of warm colors since the sun was starting to rise and it created a beautiful array of tints along the snow below.  Ironically, stopping to take a drag of a cigarette helped him breathe and he leaned against the chain fence in front of a house so he could fully enjoy his smoke. There wasn’t a soul out at this time of the morning but that was fine with Mickey because it was quiet and this shitty neighbourhood actually looked like it could be called home for once.

The white dust covered the bushes and the tree leaves and it was finding it’s way in Mickey’s hair and his coat hood but it didn’t bother him really. He was letting go of a lot of things that bothered him lately because what was the point? Everything that used to annoy him was insignificant to what he had been through three months ago. He was pretty warm in his jacket and enjoying his smoke in the stillness around him until that kind silence was broken by the creak of a door opening behind him. It wasn’t loud or anything but it shattered the quiet morning like a gunshot and he couldn’t fucking believe his eyes. After taking a quick look around his surroundings to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, it was true. He had made his way to Ian’s house, for a second time, without even paying attention and now Ian was running down the stairs, sliding to a stop in front of Mickey.  

“Mickey, I needed to see you,” Ian gasped out and it was deja vu of years ago when Ian had shown up to his house with such a longing look. His hair was longer, falling a bit into his eyes which were still such a dazzling blue that Mickey couldn’t help but stare into them.

“Do I look like a give a fuck? The fuck you up so early for anyway?” he asked, hoping Ian couldn’t hear the slightest delight to his voice. This time he was more prepared to face Ian and completely sober. He had more time to cope so he could be free from living in that hard reality where he was just a mess of broken pieces that nobody was bothering to pick up. So Mickey started to put his own pieces back together but Ian breathing heavily in front of him was starting to make all that progress crack.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Mickey. I tried so hard to stop but I can’t. Every time I close my eyes it’s just you. Why did this happen to me? Why can’t I be how I was before? I don’t want this. I’m _not_ me and I _am_ broken. Make it stop, Mickey, make it stop.”

Mickey let his arm drop, his cigarette dangling in his loose grasp and hot smoke trailed out from between his lips as he stared at Ian.

“I’ll take my medicine, okay? One second I’m hurting myself and the next I’m laughing and who the fuck am I?”

“Hurting yourself?” Mickey questioned. “What the fuck do you mean?”

Ian was quiet and his eyes were shifty but Mickey was pissed now and he threw his cigarette into the snow so he could reach out to snatch Ian’s arm and pull the sweater sleeve back to reveal pretty pale skin that had thin cuts trailing in scattered directions.

“Fuck!” Mickey shouted and looked up dangerously at the redhead who seemed almost scared under the touch. “You’re dead, Gallagher.”

The disease really was so bad that he was finally becoming suicidal. That was fucking fantastic. Even though he knew he shouldn’t care and should walk off, Mickey brushed a thumb against the scars and clenched his jaw. He couldn’t believe this shit.

“So jackass, are you done yet? You done being stupid and you’ll take that medicine?”

“I poured it all out,” Ian admitted and watched the ground as if it was so much more interesting than anything else going on.

“Then let’s fucking go. Get a coat,” Mickey ordered bitterly and watched as Ian connected their eyes again and something flickered in them until he broke free, flying into the house and returning with more layers.

 

Mickey avoided going outside all together now if he could. After getting the meds for Ian, he left without a word, trying not to listen to all the promises Ian kept shouting behind him. How he would take his meds and that he would win Mickey back and some other shit that hit too hard to stick around for. Who did that kid think he was kidding? Years of built up unspoken promises just to get broken up with like what they had wasn’t special from the beginning. Well, fuck him.

Mickey’s back was against bed sheets and his eyes stayed fixed to the shadows of swaying trees on a wall draped in moonlight. He wasn’t tired even though he’d been living off of little to no sleep lately. Did anybody else know that Ian was doing that to himself? What would he do next, go find a bridge to jump off? Mickey groaned and covered his eyes with an arm, knowing that thinking about it wasn’t doing any good. How did he let himself fall this deep for Ian? How long had he been this way? Since that kiss in the club or when Ian begged him not to get married or was it when they first had sex, in Mickey’s room? Fuck, he should have let it end at sex. All the emotion stuff wasn’t supposed to happen, not to Mickey. Not wanting to get riled up, Mickey reached out for a cigarette on the nightstand and smoked it so he could calm down a bit. It was working until there was a hit on the glass window across the room. At first he thought he was hearing things, being so tired that he was wide awake, but then the tapping happened again and Mickey jumped out of bed so fast he almost fell to the floor. Full of adrenaline, he squinted into the dark only to find, worse than a robber, Ian, at the window. He could just climb back into bed and let Ian stand there all night. That would be all right. Except that wasn’t what his body was letting him do as it moved swiftly across the carpet and his hands grasped the window pane so that it could shove it up.

“Are you fucking out of your mind?” Mickey asked, livid.  “I was sleeping, you fuck.”

“I had to see you,” Ian whispered and he leaned up into the open window. Mickey moved back so he was at a safer distance and shook his head, almost wanting to laugh at the situation.

“You must not be taking those meds, Gallagher, because you’re even more of a moron than you were before, crazy son of a bitch.”

“Crazy about you, Mick,” Ian murmured and pushed himself up into the window space so he could climb in.

“What are you trying to accomplish here? Get the fuck out of my house.”

“I told you I have to fix what I broke between us. I’ve been taking the meds and it sucks but it’s helping. It’s making me feel again and I don’t feel like I’m drowning anymore.  I did something really stupid and I screwed up and let me do something, anything. I’ll do anything.”

“The only thing you’ll be doing is walking your ass back to your house and going to bed. Time to go.”

Mickey pushed Ian back towards the window but he struggled against the touch and then they were pushing against each other, Ian’s back hitting the wall and then Mickey’s and then they were on the floor, tangled together and breathing heavily.

“We always fuck up, don’t we?” Ian tried to say but was rolled on his stomach and his words were lost in the floor and he couldn’t quite catch his breath.

“We can fix it,” Ian tried again but Mickey just hopped off of him and dragged him up by his shirt collar.

“Gallagher, you’re full of shit.”

“You married a whore and beat the shit out of me because you didn’t want to admit that you were in love with me. It hurt like hell and you came to find me. I hurt you, really hurt you, so what’s wrong with me being the one to get you back this time?”

Mickey was stunned. His hand unclutched itself out of Ian’s shirt and he watched the other boy stare at him with that knowing look. That look that lead to kissing and falling into each other and love and Mickey couldn’t be pulled back in because it was like Ian said, maybe tomorrow he wouldn’t have feelings for him like he did right now.

“Just go, seriously, Ian.”

“If I don’t?”

That cockiness that only Ian could have when threatened by Mickey was one of the things that made their relationship work. When Mickey denied himself what he really wanted, Ian knew how to make him break and give in. He knew how to make Mickey tick. He had to remind himself that if he got swept away then he might have to deal with getting thrown aside again.

“I’ll call someone to come pick you up. You really want that?”

Ian looked nervous but remained where he was.

“Bet they don’t know about that arm."

“Don’t-” He voiced out but Mickey was already punching in numbers on his phone. One second the phone was there and the next it was tossed aside by Ian who tried to put himself in the way so Mickey couldn’t reach for it.

“So you’re acting like a maniac, trying to kill yourself, and you’re running around the goddamn streets at four in the morning but you don’t want to tell your family. Is that right?”

“Yeah,” Ian said simply like it should have been obvious and Mickey was about to fly off the handle.  Mickey had to move away and collect himself so he didn't knock him out for being so stupid.

"So what?  What do you want from me?"

Ian was hesitant but he answered, "I just wanted to be near you for a bit."

Be near him for a bit? Well that wasn't the answer he was expecting. Mickey looked out the window and listened to the sound of a car driving by. Its headlights flashed across the room and the room seemed to be spinning around Mickey because Ian was waiting for him to do something. What did Mickey do to deserve this? He went to juvie already for the crap he pulled in the past, was that not enough?

"It's late so you might get picked up by one of those creepy ass old guys you're so fond of. You can sleep on the couch if you're too stubborn to call home."

Instantly, Ian perked up and followed the other into the living room, not able to keep the small smile from forming on his face. Mickey noticed it and almost smiled back because it had been eternity since he saw that smile and he never knew he would miss it this much. Absent mindedly, he made sure to put the best blankets he could find down so the couch was warm and  comfortable.  

"Go to sleep,"  he ordered when he felt Ian trying to follow him to the bedroom.

"I'm not sleepy and neither are you."

"I didn't spend the last minute spreading those sheets for you to keep me up."

"Okay, then how bout you sleep here too? I said I wanted to be near you."

"I'm right here," Mickey sighed, waving his arms out in front of his bedroom door. Ian sat down and sank a bit into the sofa with a more defeated look.

"Are you?"

This was a side of Ian that Mickey wasn't as familiar with. Of course he knew Ian got sulky and needy but even that side of him was farther away, back when they were younger and less mature.  When Mickey hated his life and was afraid of being happy and when Ian, sweet and innocent Ian, would fight for Mickey's affection. It was true. Ian didn't give up until Mickey used and abused him to no end so wasn't it unfair not to cut him some slack for having bipolar, something out of his control, and wanting to protect Mickey from dealing with it?

He crossed the space between them and ruffled Ian’s hair, something he had hardly done before.

“Right here,” he restated and as soon as he walked back to shut the door, he caught a glimpse of Ian looking at him fondly. When Mickey gave him a stern look, Ian bundled himself up into the couch covers and buried his head so his face was no longer visible and in that moment Mickey began to pull the door to a close but as soon as it touched the wall, he stopped. There was no sound except the running air condition and Mickey’s own stiff breathing. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there but like before, he was pulled towards Ian by an unknown force and he was looking down at the curled up body and the hair poking out of the blankets messily. Ian’s eyelashes were barely visible but it was obvious he was fast asleep.

“Not sleepy, huh?” Mickey smiled and touched the corner of the sleeping boy’s eye, letting his thumb smooth over Ian’s skin just gentle enough not to wake him.

 

 

 


	2. A Bubble in the Sky

It was the afternoon when Mickey finally woke up. How the hell was it so cold? Oh right, he forgot to shut the window. There was a lot of noise outside, people walking and talking and cars speeding around the corner just to slow back down to a screech when someone crossed. Mickey actually felt rested today. It had been awhile since he stayed in bed for so long.

The sun outside shined incredibly bright even though there was still a thin layer of snow coating the grass. It was turning to slush under the heated rays. Looking outside was starting to hurt his eyes so he pulled the curtain across the glass and made his way to the kitchen. There was a flash of movement in the living room that startled him until he saw who it was. His body relaxed and he remembered what happened last night.

“Hey, Mick, I found twenty dollars in my jeans so let’s go on a date.”

Mickey rubbed his eyes some more and looked down at the couch where Ian had jumped up from. The blankets he had carefully laid down were sprawled out on the floor and Ian swept them aside with his foot so he could get to Mickey faster.

“See? Come on, I want to get out,” Ian beamed and Mickey swore his teeth were brighter than the sun outside. He moved the twenty out of his face and went into the kitchen, not bothering to complain about Ian following him.

“Your fridge is practically empty, come on.”

Taking a peek inside, Mickey clicked his tongue and said, “Oh, what do you know? Not so empty.”

He popped open a bottle of beer, chugged it, then took out a slice of pizza from the box he ordered a few nights ago.

“Mickey, are you kidding? For breakfast?”

“It’s the afternoon.”

He took a bite out of the pizza but had to admit it was like eating cardboard. Tossing the pizza back into the box, he scavenged for something else.

“Or we could go somewhere that serves fresh food and it won’t hurt your stomach for the next three days.”

Ian was right, there wasn’t a crumb in his fridge and he cursed silently, knowing the other had a smug expression on behind him.

“Just because I didn’t let your dumbass walk home doesn’t mean I want anything else to do with you. I thought you would have been smart enough to leave by now.”

“You couldn’t get me out even when you tried-” Ian started but Mickey whipped around with a look that dared Ian to keep talking. He felt even more pissed off facing the brat because Ian _did_ have that smug expression.

“You were excited about the date before.”

“I was?” Mickey asked in disbelief and slammed the door to the fridge. “Was that before that crazy bitch tried to get you locked up? Or was it before she tried to shoot me while I was being dumped?”

Ian’s face fell but quickly perked back up.

“If you’re not hungry we can do something else. How about a movie? The zoo? Circus maybe?”

“Cool down. I don’t think I can handle this for another minute, I’m taking you straight to your house.”

Ian was all sunshine and rainbows, nothing like that empty shell he was when they broke up. That scared Mickey to no end. Without warning, Ian grabbed both of his hands.

“It’s not a lot of money but I really want to do something nice with you. If you hate it that much you can take me back to the house. At least try it out.”

“Are you seriously asking me for a fucking favor?”

“Not a favor, a choice.”

“It  sounds like I don’t have a fucking choice.”

Ian grinned at that and Mickey’s heart crept into his throat when Ian began to intertwine their fingers. Knowing this could only lead to something else, Mickey pulled his hands back and fled to the living room.

“If it will make you shut the fuck up then fine, let’s go.”

Ian wasted no time running out the door after Mickey.

“How did you know where to find me anyway, Gallagher? It’s creeping me out that you keep appearing out of fucking thin air.”

The two boys were taking their time strolling down the sidewalk, Ian always a half a step behind Mickey and they still hadn’t decided on a destination.

“Mandy told me,” he answered and kept his eyes on Mickey the whole time who was doing anything but that. Mickey’s lip twitched even though he shouldn’t of felt as irritated as he did. After all, it’s not like Ian broke up with her. He was stupid for assuming Ian was holed up in that house, all alone and depressed, because apparently he was staying in contact just fine with everyone, unlike Mickey who had to shut himself off.  

“Why’d you move?” Ian questioned, picking his pace up since Mickey did.

“I couldn’t let my wife and kid deal with my shit.”

At least it was half of the truth. He dropped by to see Svetlana and Yevgeny when he got the chance but going through all that wasn’t doing anybody any good so he left to live on his own for a bit. Ian still held an unwavering gaze on the back of Mickey’s head. He noticed how the wind picked up and blew his dark hair around, against his neck that was just visible above his jacket, and the way the sun trickled on the side of his face, making his eyes beautifully bright.

“I guess that’s kinda my fault, huh?”

Mickey dug around in his pocket for a smoke and dodged the question, not wanting this to get any deeper than it already was.

“So where we going?”

There was an uncomfortable silence as Mickey tried to light the cigarette and when he finally got it, Ian responded in a much less eager voice than before.

“You pick.”

“You’re the one who wanted to do this shit so don’t look at me.”

“I don’t know, where do you feel like going?”

“Do I look like I do this kinda thing a lot?”

“I guess all we ever really did was fuck.”

Mickey stopped and glanced back, pulled the cigarette from between his teeth and blew the smoke to the side before he fully looked at Ian. He thought about when he carried a passed out Ian home from the club and when Ian kissed his forehead under the red and blue lights of police cars, how unreal it was to wake up beside Ian’s sleeping figure that was just as stunning fully clothed as it was not. He remembered vividly the day he admitted out loud that they were together, unknown to Ian, and when he frantically called Ian’s phone, accidentally letting I love you slip out for the first time in the heat of the moment. The time he had to watch, with blurry vision, as Ian walked into the psych ward and how hard it hit Mickey that this was someone he couldn’t live without.

“Is that what you think?” Mickey asked slowly. He was anticipating Ian’s next words so badly that he stopped breathing. The atmosphere shifted into something heavier and Ian seemed to sense the mistake because his shoulders tensed up defensively.

“No, I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“I don’t know what you’re fucking on about anymore,” Mickey mumbled angrily because that was the only way to hide the hurt. Ian panicked and grabbed Mickey’s forearm.

“I’m really sorry, Mickey. I don’t think that.”

How many times could one person ask for forgiveness? Wanting to play it off, Mickey shrugged and finished smoking until the stick was ash.

“Maybe all we did was fuck so how bout we leave it at that? We don’t need to go on this stupid date after all. Everyone wins.”

Ian looked even more panicked now but before he could speak, a loud scream interrupted and both boys turned around to find themselves standing right in front of a silver fence with a sign on top that had the word "carnival" painted in red on it. There were flocks of people gathering to see the ticket prices and the smell of popcorn was so strong they could smell it from the street.

“How far out did we walk? What the hell is this?”

“It’s a place where people have fun. We might as well go in while we’re here,” Ian stated and pushed Mickey through the gate, all the way up to the ticket booth.

“Do all the carnivals open up when there’s a shit ton of ice all over the ground?”

Ian was too busy trying to stand on his toes to see the prices to pay attention to Mickey’s complaining and when he finished reading, he bounced a bit in excitement.

“Oh hey, you can ride everything for free if you get a wristband and I have just enough for two.”

“That ain’t free,” Mickey grumbled but didn’t stop Ian from leading him closer to the front of the line. There were some kids screaming behind them and it was giving him a headache.

“Two wristbands, please,” Ian told the woman at the stand. She popped a bright pink bubble of gum and took his twenty dollars. When she handed over the thin slits of paper, Mickey felt suddenly self conscious because Ian pulled him to the side and carefully pressed one of the bands to Mickey’s wrist. You would think he was an army medic, rather than a soldier, because he was wrapping it like he was wary of hurting Mickey.

“I think I’m capable of doing it, Gallagher.”

“Let me do it,” Ian insisted and continued to delicately cover Mickey’s skin.

“You’re taking your sweet time, aren’t you?”

Ian did seem to be going unnecessarily slow. He looked up at Mickey as he pushed the paper into his wrist, securing it in place.

“Let me take care of you for once,” Ian murmured, so low that only Mickey could hear,  as if it was some precious secret only meant for him. There was that look again in Ian’s eyes that made Mickey start feeling weird except this time something happened. That connection they used to share was coming back, stronger, and standing there in an amusement park, on a date for Christs sake, was romantic and Mickey tingled where Ian held him. Was it okay to be here? Here with this nut job who was still holding his arm and who took advantage of Mickey’s moment of weakness to brush his lips over the skin, below the wrist band, where Mickey’s artery was beating. For once Mickey didn’t take note of the eyes of onlookers and held as still as he could until Ian pulled away. The warm touch was gone.

“Wanna start off with something bad ass?” Ian asked happily. He didn’t even give Mickey a chance to answer because something in the distance caught his attention and he quickly looped an arm through Mickey’s to guide him there. After weaving in and out between crowds of people, they reached the ride. It was a roller coaster that might as well have been touching the sky, or at least that’s what it seemed like to Mickey from where they were on the ground.

“You okay?” Ian asked once they were in line. He let go of Mickey’s arm, not wanting to push his luck too much but the other didn’t seem to hear him.

“Hey, Mickey? If you’re getting chicken we can pick another one.”

“Are you trying to be funny?” Mickey replied, scowling.

“You were being quiet so I was making sure.”

“Do I have to talk every fucking minute?”

Ian grinned and moved up in line. Distracted, Mickey touched the spot Ian kissed on his wrist and didn’t understand how something so insignificant had such an effect on him. Time passed while he was lost in thought and they made it to the front of the line. Just like with dates, Mickey was a stranger to Amusement Parks. It never even crossed his mind that he would be getting on a roller coaster for the first time in his life and when he went after Ian and sat by him in the plastic seats, it dawned on him that he was going into something completely foreign.

“Buckle up,” Ian ordered and pointed to the flimsy strap at Mickey’s shoulder which he was supposed to brace across his chest and somehow that was going to stop him from flying out of this fucking thing if it went off the tracks a thousand feet in the air.

“You look nervous,” Ian laughed as Mickey finished snapping in his safety belt.

“This fucker better not fly off into the sun or some shit.”

“Don’t worry, it’s fun.”

“Yeah, real fun. You won’t be laughing when that shoe string over your chest breaks and you flail out of the car, screaming, ‘I should have listened to you Mickey, this sucks!’, will you?”

“Why the hell would that be my last words? There’s more to my life than admitting you were right, you know.”

Despite that, Ian chuckled and Mickey chuckled back but it was cut short when the cars jerked forward and Mickey’s attention went dead ahead. Ian howled along with some of the other passengers. That wasn’t helping to stop Mickey’s stomach from rolling around.

“Get pumped, Mick!”

While they pushed on slowly, there were clicking sounds beneath them. Mickey shifted in the seat and cleared his throat.

“The tracks breaking or something?”

The people behind them were already shouting louder and the seats started to shift back, indicating they were moving up a slope. Ian looked ecstatic as the coaster kept going up and up and Mickey, regrettably, looked down and then flung himself as close to the back of the seat as he could muster. The clicking didn’t stop for ages and how the hell were they still going up? They would be at the moon if they didn’t stop soon.

“You’re for real scared, Mick?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

It was clear they had reached some kind of peak because the ride went dead. Ian couldn’t help but silently laugh and try to catch his breath when he saw the look on Mickey’s face.

“We can hold hands if you want.”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up-”

In a blur, they whooshed forward and were thrown back against the hard plastic. Mickey thought his chest had collapsed because he couldn’t get oxygen and they spiraled into a tunnel of wind that was whipping Mickey across the face and trying to blast his hair from the roots. The yells around him seemed distant, lost in the tornado they were all trapped in and Mickey didn’t sign up for this shit.  He couldn’t keep his eyes open and the most sickening feeling came over him because there was no end to the falling and they were going to crash straight into the ground.  Then he wouldn’t ever have the chance to tell Ian he was sorry for all the shit he put him through in the past, all the stuff he never formally apologized for, and that he wanted to work things out but was too stubborn to try. He wouldn’t be able to tell him that he got really happy when Ian wanted to go on a date and that Ian wanted anything to do with him at all. Ian was roaring next to him but it was cheerful, as if they weren’t about to die. The cars jerked around, smacking Mickey’s body against the seat and when his body tried to fly out, the belt pinned him down.

“Well that was awesome.”

One second passed. Then two and then three before Mickey opened one eye and was met by a contented Ian, still sitting next to him, still in the amusement park. He looked like he just had the time of his life and he cocked his head, wondering why Mickey wasn’t agreeing.

As the seat belt popped off, Mickey jumped out and ran down the stairs, pushing some people out of the way. He jogged until he was far from the coaster and found a trash can. Some people were watching him but he didn’t even care at this point. He leered over it, the pain of needing to throw up was unbearable, but nothing was happening to make it go away.  It was worse than a hangover. Even though it felt like acid was churning in his abdomen nothing came up to relieve the agony.

“It’s okay, Mickey.”

Ian had caught up and placed a soothing hand along Mickey’s back. He rubbed slowly up and down and let Mickey breathe in and out for a few minutes.

“I didn’t know you were sensitive to heights, sorry Mickey.”

Unable to respond for fear of his insides coming out, Mickey just shook his head to let Ian know he wasn’t.

“We didn’t eat anything either so maybe that’s making it worse. You want something?”

As Ian’s hand glided in bigger strokes, the pain started to subsidize. Mickey coughed a few times and then after another minute, the feeling passed. Where Ian's hand moved, it washed the tenseness out of Mickey's muscles and although there was a thick jacket in the way, Mickey's skin was getting hot. He sat up straight and blinked at Ian whose brows were furrowed. Something was bothering him. What was it he thought about as they were going downhill? He had an itching feeling it was important but it wouldn't come to him. Not wanting to rack his brain as much as his stomach, Mickey nodded because now that the sick feeling was gone, food sounded amazing.

“Yeah, I guess. You’re out of money though.”

Ian tried every one of his pants pockets, twice, and looked up sheepishly.

“Oh shit.”

“Oh shit is right. Some date you are.”

“Sorry I didn’t even think-”

“I’m just messing with you,” Mickey smirked and pulled out a leather wallet. “I guess I’ll have to pay for your ass this time so let’s go see about some funnel cake or hot dogs or whatever the hell they sell at these things.”

Ian still looked embarrassed but happy nonetheless.

“You okay now?”

“Yeah, great. Hurry up so we can get some grub.”

Ian didn’t argue with that.

Hours were passing and they went to everything the park had to offer, except roller coasters. Whenever they would walk by one, Mickey peaked at Ian, waiting for him to mention his little episode, but he never even gave the rides a second glance. He was talking the most out of the two, about how he spent the last two weeks trying to get a job and some other stuff that came to him. It was like Ian wanted to tell Mickey everything about his life over the last three months and Mickey might have been imagining it, but every few seconds something new would pop into Ian's head and he would get passionate about it as if he never spoke to anyone before now in his life. With every word, he didn’t let his eyes leave Mickey for a second. The world around them didn’t seem to interest Ian nearly as much as having Mickey’s attention.

They decided to have a race in the hall of mirrors, Mickey won, and followed up with a haunted house attraction. During the ride, they couldn’t stop cracking up at all the cheap effects. Then they jumped on the merry-go-round which turned out to be the most fun because the line was short so they would keep getting back on to make provocative poses on the different animals, horrifying the parents who were trying to take pictures of their kids. One man was so angry he tried to confront them but they both flipped him off and threw their arms around each other’s shoulders, laughing uncontrollably in their escape. They were bumping into people as they headed to a new side of the park.

“You look high,” Ian choked.

“You’re not exactly sane looking yourself, chuckles.”

“Let’s do that one next!” Ian yelled so he could be heard above the noise around them. Mickey followed the direction of his finger to a large wheel that was all lit up now that it was dark.

“What are you, five?”

“It’s a Ferris Wheel. You can’t go to a carnival and not ride the Ferris Wheel. Don’t worry though, it goes really slow.”

Mickey flushed but that was all Ian said until they got up to the massive thing.

“Oh man, I never actually rode one of these at night. I haven't ever stayed at the carnival long enough.”

Mickey wasn't sure if there was something implied in that sentence but he didn't inquire and leaned against the railing. When he reached for his cigarette pack from within his pocket, his hand was pushed in the other direction.

“Hey, don’t do that here.”

“What?”

“You’re not supposed to. Just wait until we get on the ride if you’re that desperate.”

“So I can smoke up there but not down here? What the fuck?”

Ian shook his head and showed the ride worker his bracelet. Mickey flashed his and jumped into the Ferris Wheel after Ian and waited for something to happen. As soon as the ride moved, it was only for a second, and it slowed to a stop. Mickey looked around, paranoid that this was some kind of trick.

“It’s not going to spin out of control, relax.”

“I am relaxed,” Mickey snapped and lit up his cigarette.

“You’re not really supposed to do that in here either so throw it out before we get off.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

It was like that for a bit. Every now and then they would move a little farther into the air and then they would pause. Mickey smoked out into the open space above the metal doors and stretched his legs out. He accidentally bumped Ian’s foot and retracted it on impulse.

“If you wanted to play footsie, at least be discrete.”

“It’s not my fault you happen to be sitting across from me and my legs are getting cramped, dumb ass.”

“I can sit next to you if you want.”

Mickey coughed on the tar and glared at the other. Ian smiled smugly, in that way that said he knew more than he should, so Mickey leaned his body onto the side of the cart and exhaled deeply.

“Real smooth.”

“Please shut the fuck up for once.”

Ian leaned back and grinned like he just received a compliment and slid over to his own side to look out. They were now near the top of the wheel and the sky was growing darker. There were gray clouds sweeping across it and from this angle, it was so much more never ending.  It wasn't quite night time and the Earth was cooling, letting in a refreshing breeze through their small space. Mickey’s body reacted opposite to how it did on the roller coaster. He was at peace.

“You like it?” Ian asked, still staying on his respective side. Mickey tossed the cigarette below before he twisted around. Ian’s chin was nestled on his arm and his back was to Mickey who put a palm down on the cold metal seat and pulled one leg up to his chest.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You love it,” Ian confirmed for both of them and Mickey moved his knee even closer against himself, not saying anything. He gave up fighting Ian on these things a long time ago. The Ferris Wheel reached the top and it was like they were on top of the world. There was something magical about being trapped in this bubble in the sky with Ian and something came over Mickey, causing him to inch closer to the other side of the cart.

“Ever since I came back from that place, everyone’s been treating me like a patient."

Mickey stopped moving and listened to Ian’s voice. He sounded far away. After taking a minute to collect himself, Ian continued.  

“When I’m with you, Mickey, I don’t feel like I’m sick in the head. I feel like the luckiest person alive.”

In their space away from the world, time froze. The breeze picked up and the translucent blue light filtering into the cart was fading. Ian kept his eyes on the sky and let his head droop further into his sleeve. Mickey stayed speechless and his leg dropped from the seat. When he could find words, he stuttered.

“That’s just the meds, Ian.”

“They make me okay here,” Ian explained, touching the side of his head. His hand moved  to his chest and tugged at the fabric. “Not here.”

The Ferris Wheel came to a stop and to Mickey’s surprise they were back on ground. Ian hopped out and when Mickey went after him, he reached out. He wanted Ian to look at him. He wanted to see Ian's blue eyes. He wanted to make Ian okay. As soon as his fingers were about to connect to Ian’s shoulder, the other pivoted around.

“Can we do that one real quick before we leave?” he asked, all smiles like before. There was something wrong about it and Mickey’s arm fell. An unsettling feeling filled his chest. He didn’t even look at where Ian was suggesting.

“Yeah, we can.”


	3. Lavender Roses

On the way home, Mickey was hyper aware of every movement Ian made, from the way Ian’s eyes shifted to the way Ian’s shoulders slumped. He read into everything Ian was saying and his eyes kept finding that spot hidden beneath Ian’s sleeve. The place where Ian hurt himself that only Mickey must have known about. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. It wasn’t until Ian stopped speaking that Mickey snapped back to reality.

“You’re always spacing out. Am I that boring?”

Mickey was taken back and stopped walking.

“What are you talking about?”

“All night, you barely looked at me.”

Mickey looked to the side, unsure of what to say, and Ian sighed, “like that.”

“I’m just-” Mickey swallowed and tried to find a smoke but he was all out.

“You keep smoking when you’re nervous.”

“The hell I do,” Mickey stammered and his eyes flickered up long enough to see that Ian looked serious.

“What are you making all these assumptions for? It’s annoying the hell out of me.”

“Aren't they true?”

There was a group of drunk teenagers screaming across the street and Mickey couldn’t help but shoot a scowl in their direction. He didn’t know if he could handle anymore noise after being engulfed in all the screeching at the carnival.

“See? You’re more interested in them than me.”

Mickey’s eyes found Ian’s wrist once more.

“Ian, I’ve been paying attention to you all day.”

That seemed to shut him up long enough for Mickey to think. The words Ian said on the Ferris Wheel kept circling in his head.

“Can we go to the ballpark or something for a little?”

Mickey took in a deep breath and rubbed a hand over his face. “We just spent the whole fucking day running around, aren’t you ready to get some shut eye?”

“Are you going to take me to my house?”

He said ‘house’ like it was something that scared him.

“Where else would I take you?”

Ian stared at the concrete and Mickey didn’t know why but guilt washed over him. He had no idea what was going on in Ian’s head and after all that talk about being sick and not being treated like normal, he wondered how alone Ian really was. There was a fragileness about him right now that Mickey didn’t want to trigger. Worrying about Ian was as natural as breathing and fuck, it sucked sometimes.

“Less than an hour and then your house. I mean it.”

Ian raised his head and it was plain he was relieved. Mickey did so many drug deals at the park in the past that his body went on autopilot towards it. Ian trudged behind him, his steps not as airy as before. Now that Ian wasn’t talking, there was silence and it was nice at first until it stretched and Mickey started to stress out. Every breath he could hear Ian make reminded him that Ian was there and that he was anything but okay. Why couldn’t Mickey say anything? Maybe Ian could feel better if he knew Mickey was worrying about him at all? In the end he didn’t break the silence. The ballpark was completely empty and the stadium lights were shut off so the only light came from the moon and starlight. There were no sounds except for their own breathing and footsteps against the wet grass that was completely clear of snow now.

Mickey looked out at the dug out for a few seconds and it occurred to him that there were memories here. They not only had sex but a heated make out session and a fist fight and Mickey wondered if that was crossing Ian’s mind too.

He stopped and looked back at Ian whose pace was unusually slow. He appeared dazed, not really watching where he was going. Seeing Ian like that, another memory came to Mickey. In a mesmerized sort of way, Ian moved some grass around with his shoe and was about to move on until he heard the sound of rustling fabric. He looked up to find Mickey shrugging his coat off. Puzzled by the action, he paused to watch Mickey lean down and open the jacket as far as he could spread it on the grass. The air was a bit chilly but Mickey didn’t mind and sat down, careful to only take up some of the space on the coat. He put his arms behind his head and tumbled onto his back with a pleasant sigh.

“I know it’s no blanket but it’s the best I can do.”

The stars were scattered all over the inky sky above and it was strange that out of all the many times he’s been here, this was the first he really looked up. He never gave it any thought, how breathtaking the night sky could be, not even once. There were a few subtle sounds and then Ian was crouching and sitting at Mickey’s side. He seemed to be making sure that he wasn’t too close or taking up too much space.

"I won't bite, Gallagher."

Ian draped his arms over his knees and moved his head so he could squint at Mickey.

"Are you trying to flirt? We are stargazing after all."

“Keep dreaming,” Mickey scoffed but feeling Ian watch his reaction only lead to a warmth building up in his cheeks. He wanted to smoke so bad. Ian was still looking down and Mickey didn’t know if he liked that or not. It sure was making it hard to concentrate.

“Are you cold, Mick?”

“Nah.”

“Okay.”

Ian moved closer, letting there only be less than an inch between them and somehow Mickey could feel his body heat and they might as well have been touching. He thought this was the right moment to step up and ask what he’s been thinking about for the past few days. Mickey stretched out and took a deep breath.

“Why did you do that to yourself?”

There was a standstill and then Ian murmured, “huh?”

“Hurt yourself,” Mickey said and he couldn’t prevent some of that anger from slipping out. Ian crossed his arms and looked out at the field.

“Who cares? You hurt yourself everyday, don’t you?”

“The hell are you talking about?”

“Every Time you do this,” Ian challenged and he put his fingers up to his mouth, sucked in air, blew the air back out. and shot an accusing glare at him, “you’re killing yourself. “

“You're shitting me right? Are you fucking comparing smoking to slicing up an arm?”

When Mickey rolled up into a sitting pose, Ian sat up straighter and added, “You know it’s bad for you but you do it anyways. How is that not the same?”

"Because I don't want to die."

"I never said that I did," Ian said, his hostility fading.

"Then what the fuck were you trying to do? Huh? Making sure your blood was still red? I mean what the fuck, Ian."

"Don't," Ian whispered, "you don't understand what it feels like."

"Then can you paint me a picture?"

"Its been around an hour so just take me home,” Ian mumbled. Mickey grabbed his forearm to prevent him from standing up.

"You want that? Really?"

Ian averted his eyes.

"Just tell me what happened.”

Ian looked at the place where Mickey was touching him. He took the hand gently into his own and then peered into Mickey’s eyes. They were so close now that Mickey could make out the freckles dotting beneath Ian’s eyes and along his nose.

“What happened? I took the Lithium when they were looking and spat it out later so they would just stop pestering me. Nothing really mattered anymore so why the hell wouldn’t they just stop? It was torture, sleeping for days and not caring about anything in the world. Some days I just wanted to paint the town red and it was like living on clouds until the crash happened all over again. I screwed up too many times and then you were there, Mickey.”

“Screwed up?” Mickey inquired, not giving much thought to Ian tracing circles across his knuckles.

“Street fights, sneaking off with guys, did some hard drugs-”

“Whoah,” Mickey moved away, “you mean in the last three months?”

Ian didn’t let go of Mickey’s hand regardless of the fact that the other pulled back.

“I told you I was screwed up. It only got worse. After some drugs one night, I cut myself to see what would happen. I didn’t want to die or anything, I just wanted to feel pain, something different.”

“Ian, what the actual fuck,” Mickey breathed out but when he saw that vulnerability cross Ian’s face, he quickly added, “just that once?”

“A few times.”

Mickey was at a loss. Sure, the last three months weren’t a picnic for him but it was starting to sound like a breeze compared to Ian’s story.

“You’re okay now,” he stated to assure himself almost as much as he wanted to comfort Ian.

“Sometimes the Lithium doesn’t work so well and I get bad again.”

Mickey twitched when Ian’s fingers traced around his wrist and pushed the paper bracelet up so that he could caress the spot where Mickey’s pulse began to become erratic. It was the spot Ian kissed earlier that night.

“You really hate it there? At your house?” Mickey asked, partly to distract himself from how he was melting into Ian’s touch.

“It’s not the house, I’m just trapped wherever I go.” He laughed suddenly, light and bitter. “Well not with you.”

“Stop,” Mickey said. He stood up and broke the connection between them. Ian’s expression went from surprised to hurt as his open hand clenched shut.

“You just started taking the Lithium again, what, four days ago? It takes a while for it to fully take effect and I don’t think you should-” he stopped himself, not wanting to hurt Ian more than he just did.

“I shouldn't what? Touch you? You a doctor now?” Ian asked and he looked irritated.

“I don’t,” Mickey hesitated again because he couldn’t form exactly what he wanted to get across, “ Ian, you’re still sick.”

“So you don’t want me? Gee, thanks for the heads up.”

He pulled himself up to standing and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Can I go home now?”

“For fuck’s sake, Ian, I’m just worried. You’re recovering from more shit than I thought.”

“You weren’t there. Don’t tell me what I’m recovering from.”

They stared at each other until Mickey felt his bare arms shiver and the cold was crawling all over his skin now. He snatched his coat from the ground and threw it on.

“You wanna go home? Nobody’s stopping you.”

Ian made no movement so Mickey gestured in the direction of the parking lot. Taking the hint, he stalked off, not giving Mickey another look as they made way for his house.

Mickey should have known things couldn’t be how they were before. He was too closed off now to love Ian again and Ian, well, Ian was going to heal just fine since he was on the medicine and he didn’t need Mickey for that. Last time, when he first used the medication and Mickey tried to care for him, it ended in a bloody mess. Mickey couldn't seem to say or do anything right. Their relationship was too dysfunctional and Mickey knew that kind of environment only meant trouble for the disorder.

They reached Ian’s house and it was awkward when Ian finally did look back at Mickey.

“I’m not going to run off and commit suicide.” He propped one foot up the stairs and said, “You’re going to do it too, treat me like a psycho?”

“You’re not psycho,” Mickey replied softly. Why didn’t Ian understand?

“You're a danger to yourself and I’m not leaving until I see you go into that house. Three months ago, when I came here, you were messed up, begging for help. and did the same thing days ago. You made it clear that you’re in pain and scared of how fucked up you are. I’m not going to ruin any chances you have left of getting better.”

“I told you I’m getting better.” His voice was trailing off and Mickey felt himself growing frustrated. Why didn’t Ian see that Mickey wasn’t good for him? He wasn’t a fucking doctor and anything he tried to mend, fell apart. He was a shitty husband, a shitty father, and a shitty boyfriend.

“Hard drugs and all that other shit you were telling me ring any bells? In three minutes you could snap and wander on the other side of the city for all I know. I’ll have to run after you but I just. . .”

I’m not good for you, Mickey thought. I can’t take care of you and give you what you need.

“Great,” Ian laughed and it wasn’t happy. “I told you that shit because you wanted to know and you’re going to pull this? Fuck you too.”

Ian swung the front door open and shut so hard that it rattled. Mickey stood at the steps for another moment and slowly reached into his pocket. His vision was blurring slightly and he cursed in a low voice.

“Fucking need to get those cigarettes.”

Mickey wasn’t a great pimp or a decent drug dealer but his new job was working out for him. He didn’t know how the fuck he ended up here. It was sometime after a drunken conversation at a bar with a florist and before he knew it, he was arranging flowers. At first, he regretted agreeing to work here, feeling like a pansy himself for trimming and moving plants around like an old lady. Eventually it turned out to be the most relaxing job he could have asked for and the money wasn’t half bad.

Mickey yawned and did a mindless sweep over the flowerpots in his asile since he had nothing better to do. He sent his last paycheck to Svetlana but with the next one he had enough to pay the little bills he owed on his apartment and treat himself to a smartphone. Fascinated with all the cool shit the thing could do, he barely noticed two girls looking his way. They were teenage girls, blonde, and giggling as they peaked over at Mickey. He shook his phone and scrunched up his eyebrows at the screen. There were so many apps how did anyone know which ones to download.

The flower shop was quiet, minus the giggling girls and a chatty old couple at the front. He touched the texting app and typed out to Svetlana that he would be dropping by in the evening. When he locked the phone, one of the blondes was standing in front of him.

“Scared the shit out of me,” he commented and the language must have thrown her off because her smile faltered for a moment.

“Um,” she moved her body in a way that let Mickey see down her shirt and said, “do you know which flowers mean making love?”

She twirled her hair a bit and locked her lips. When she gave him a lookover, he got the picture. When was the last time he banged? Physically, he couldn’t appreciate a female figure, but it did suck not having sex for months. He shook his head, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy a simple fuck anyways. He was exposed to love and that fucked up his view on casual sex.

“I have no fucking clue,” he settled on being honest. The disappointment was clear on her face and she shrugged.

“Maybe  _he_  does,” the girl smirked and made her way to the front of the store. Please tell me she doesn’t mean that old man, Mickey thought, and followed her with his eyes. Luckily it was a young and good looking guy with red hair and blue eye who looked a lot like Ian. It  _was_  fucking Ian.

She got in Ian’s path and Mickey strained his ears to hear their conversation but he couldn’t make it out even though the store was eerily quiet. He anticipated what Ian’s move was going to be. Didn’t the manic stage of bipolar make him a sex crazed idiot? Male or female, he might take the bait. When Ian found Mickey’s gaze, he bowed his head to the girl and completely focused on making his way to him.

Why was Ian there? How did he find him? Wasn’t he still pissed about their little fight the other night? The girls packed their stuff and left and Mickey could see the old couple getting some flowers on their way out too. So now it was just the store clerk, Mickey, and Ian.

“Does being a stalker come with being bipolar?” Mickey asked, pretending like it wasn’t a big deal Ian was here. Up close, he could see Ian’s skin glistening and he was panting.

“I was jogging,” Ian replied, taking a gulp of the water canteen in his hand. “Oh and that’s all I was doing just in case you’re thinking something else.”

Mickey started swiping around on the phone to act like he was uninterested. The more distance, the better. Ian looked great today, there weren’t bags under his eyes and he was practically shimmering. For someone who was exercising, he smelled amazing, better than the lilies and gardenias next to them.

“I’m also not here to see you so if you’ll excuse me.”

Mickey’s head whipped up at that but it was too late, Ian went to the store front and was leaning across the counter in conversation with the clerk. Ian’s eyes were lighting up during their little chat and the man at the desk, who shockingly was under thirty, and attractive, whispered something into Ian’s ear. When their intimate time was over, Ian bailed out and said he would text the guy. He needed to focus on working, Mickey told himself. He was going to arrange the flowers by color and that’s all he needed to be doing. There was nothing to feel bothered by. He tried to calm down but before he knew it, his hands were shaking and he put the phone away and went to the storefront.

“You still have two hours,” the man at the desk said when Mickey appeared. “I’ll get your money from last week by Friday.”

It was like being in high school again where Mickey was even smaller, just something to be brushed off, and because he was so tired of being brushed off, he spiraled into a violent frenzy. Right now, that uncontrollable fire was flaring up. The urge to punch this man was almost blinding and when Ian was involved, it made things worse. As he trembled under his jacket, he let himself breathe. He wasn't a kid anymore. He backed down for the first time in his life.

“Add the hours to my day tomorrow,” he spat and this confused the clerk.

“What?”

“I have to head out.”

Mickey’s foot touched the glass of the door to scoot it open but at the last second, he snatched up some of the lavender roses to his left. The door jingled behind him and in the daylight, he had to use his hand as a shield to see. He looked around and didn’t take long to find Ian’s electric blue hoodie disappearing around the corner. Mickey’s legs couldn’t go fast enough. His shoes scraped against the sidewalk when he at last caught up. Mickey grabbed the blue hood and tried to catch his breath.

“Fucking speedy Gonzales, slow the fuck down.”

Ian turned around and took his headphones out.

“You forgot these,” Mickey said lamely and shoved the roses to Ian’s chest. Ian scrutinized them for a minute but looked happy.

“I don’t get it. Are they from John?”

“John? Are they fucking from-” Mickey looked around and smiled sarcastically. “Yeah I ran my ass out here for fucking John so you guys could have some romantic night later.”

Ian put his nose against the petals and looked up. “Well John has good taste.”

“Probably because John knows you like romantic shit too much for your own good,” Mickey retorted.

“Does he also know I’m in love with someone else?”

Mickey’s heart fluttered. Ian dipped his head into the flowers again, his lips brushing against the various shades of lilacs. “Which is too bad because these flowers are too sweet to give up.”

“I mean you can keep them, he doesn’t have to know,” Mickey offered. Ian raised his face back up and smiled.

“Well he’s just a friend so I don’t want to give him the wrong impression.”

Mickey felt reassured at that and scratched the back of his head. What was he doing going after Ian with some goddamn flowers? Apologizing? Maybe Mickey should go to a psych ward for a little while.

“So one second you want me and the next you don’t? You’re sure I’m crazy?”

Is he reading my fucking mind, Mickey thought and moved his shoulders back and forth because he couldn’t stay still.

“Look, Ian, just because I’m not going to you know,” he gestured and didn’t know why he was getting embarrassed now of all times, “doesn’t mean we can’t hang out.”

“Not going to what? Have sex with me?”

There was a perversion in Ian’s eyes, like if it was up to him, they would be having sex right now. That was killing Mickey inside. He wanted to ask Ian if he was okay today but after their last fight, he was afraid of giving the impression that he was doctoring him again.

“Are we cool?”

Ian hummed and looked up for so long that Mickey tapped his foot.

"I mean, I don't know. An expensive dinner wouldn't hurt."

Instantly, Mickey reached for the flowers.

“Give them back then, prick!”

“Oh you want these?” Ian asked, raising them up in the air and then they were play wrestling. Ian seemed to have gained some muscle since their fist fight in the ballpark and easily kept Mickey at bay but that was also because Mickey wasn’t taking it seriously. They cursed each other out and laughed, running like mad men through the alleys and spooked a few passersby. They were kicking at each other and Ian was having too much fun playing keep away.

It ended with Ian hiding the flowers behind his back and when Mickey thought he finally had them, Ian pinned him against one of the walls. Mickey was smiling and thought they were done playing but in the midst of their heaving, Ian leaned forward and closed the space between them. A bird flew off the fire exit above but other than that, they were completely alone in the shaded alleyway. Ian lingered just long enough for it to count because when they parted, Mickey’s eyes were wild and disoriented.

“That’s for the flowers.”


	4. You Want to Be With Me

“I won’t love him again.”

Mickey was sitting on the kitchen floor with hard liquor in one hand and a cigarette in the other. There were no lights on in the house except for the green neon numbers on the microwave. He clenched his teeth and felt the taste of salt and blood mixed with the alcohol in his mouth.

“I won’t fucking love that bastard,” he kept muttering and let the bottle roll out of his hand. The clear liquid, not that there was much left, seeped out onto the dirty tiles and made a puddle by the fridge. His back was to the wall and he felt safe in this enclosed space, like nothing could touch him and hurt him again.

“You clean,” Sventalana’s voice came from behind the counter. She was dressed in a dark silk robe and her arms were crossed. It was four in the morning and upon hearing Mickey come in the front door two minutes ago, she got out of bed to see what was up.

“Clean mess.”

Mickey hiccupped and muttered more incoherent things. Svetlana stared at him for a moment and then went to the cabinet to grab the paper towels. She shut the door and crossed the floor to where Mickey was slouched over. Leaning down, she put the napkins out to Mickey whose eyes were glazed over and didn’t seem to even register her existence. Svetlana was quiet as she examined him. She leaned down and rather than wipe up the floor, she took the cigarette from Mickey’s hand, put it in the sink, and used a napkin to dab at the tears under his eyes.

That was the first night.

For a week, Svetlana watched her husband wander around the house and occasionally disappear for hours only to return without any explanation, usually drunk. She knew what had happened. Something bad between him and his boyfriend was making him like this. Mickey didn’t touch the TV and often forgot to eat. He barely looked at her and she would find him staring out the window, smoking, drinking, doing nothing but passing the time by.

“Baby needs changing,” she ordered one evening while Mickey was almost passed out on the couch. His hair was messy, his clothes unwashed, and he hadn’t shaved in a week. She tossed the diapers on top of his stomach. He groaned and wiped at his eyes.

“What?”

“Change baby, now."

He picked up the wipes and diapers and looked at them like this was his first time dealing with something like this. Svetlana buttoned the rest of her shirt up and made her way to the other side of the couch to slip her shoes on. Out of her peripheral vision, she watched Mickey sit up and stare down into his lap, unmoving. Fed up, Svetlana went to his side and when he looked up at her, she poked a harsh finger to his chest.

“Baby needs father.”

Mickey’s eyes opened and closed a few times and then he seemed to be wide awake. He ran from the couch into the baby’s room and she could hear him cooing, something Mickey rarely did except when he thought nobody was around.

When she returned home for work that night, Mickey was sitting on the couch, dressed cleanly, shaven, and deep in thought. She knelt down to slip her heels off and Mickey stood up. That’s when he announced he would find a better job and send her money for the baby because he had to leave for a while. There was a silent understanding between them and Svetlana let him go.

**  
**

“I’m fucking cutting it!” Mickey shouted across the house. He muttered the word ‘bitch’ as he mashed the peaches around in the bowl on the table and stirred a bit before taking it to Yevgeny. His son was laughing as Mickey spoon fed him and he couldn’t help but think it was pretty cute.

“Do you even like this stuff? All you do is get it all over your damn clothes.”

When Svetlana entered, he grabbed his coat from the couch.

“I got work tomorrow so I’m heading out.”

She glided up to Mickey and fixed his shirt before kissing him on the cheek. He let her and waved bye to Yev who was waving his arms frantically and giggling. Before he could close the door she spoke.

“Are you still fighting with carrot boy?”

Mickey never told her what happened with Ian, not even now that him and Ian were somewhat talking again.

“I don’t know,” he replied, shrugging. She leaned against the baby’s high chair to wipe his chin.

“You come home?” She asked and it wasn’t in that affectionate, I miss you, kind of tone that would be normal between a married couple, but there was some care to her voice. Mickey was doing better. He felt more calm, less agitated, working at the flower shop, god he still couldn’t believe he worked at a fucking flower shop, and he didn’t want to be one of those dads who bailed on their kid. Plus, he wasn’t a mess anymore and while there were still scars, he was pretty much over the breakup.

“Look, I’ll get my shit and be back in a week.”

She smiled a bit and finished cleaning up the baby. “Good.”

Mickey left and ran a hand through his raven hair. As he descended the stairs, his phone buzzed in his jeans and a bubble of Ian’s face popped up on the screen. He unlocked the phone to read the text.

“John got me a job at the flower shop.”

Mickey typed slowly since he wasn’t used to texting yet and when he was done, he clicked the phone screen off. He left through the apartment exit and was greeted by the Chicago night air. The streets were slick from earlier rain and Mickey splashed straight through a puddle without a care in the world. His phone buzzed again and he wondered how Ian could reply so fast. The bench at the bus stop was empty which Mickey liked because he couldn’t stand sitting next to some high fuck who wouldn’t stop catcalling or mouthing off about Jesus and other shit he ran into. There were plenty of people walking around though and the city was bustling tonight. He looked down at his phone in annoyance.

“If you wanted a job there so bad, why didn’t you ask me?”

“You jealous?”

He tapped against the screen and pressed send.

“What the fuck do you think? You don’t learn, Gallagher.”

He let his head fall for a moment, exhausted from running around to do errands for Svetlana. Not only that but the earlier scene with Ian took most of his energy. It wasn’t the rough housing that did it, he was fine until Ian had to go and kiss him. Even though Mickey just explained he wanted to be friends. When Ian pulled back, Mickey was unprepared and completely winded. There was a tension but Ian just smiled softly and plugged his earphones back in, telling Mickey he was going to finish his jog. He looked down at the incoming text message with a frown.

“I didn't want to bother you.”

“Well too fucking late.”

Mickey wasn’t the nicest guy, not the most dependable either,  he knew that much but Ian helped him land that security gig at the grocery store years ago and did he not think Mickey would return the favor? He had to go and ask fucking green eyed, magazine cover looking John for one instead. Mickey searched the streets but the bus still had five minutes to come.

“Are you really bothered, Mick?”

Mickey leaned his head back on the bench and looked up at the dim orange lamps covering the bus stop ceiling. He shouldn’t be bothered. Ian could do whatever he wanted now that they weren’t even a couple although Ian was still trying to fix their relationship and went as far as admitting that he still loved Mickey. It was too unreal. Mickey still felt the holes that Ian left in his heart and from the start, he never thought he was worthy of Ian’s love. It was so stupid to feel this fucking insecure when he should just take Ian back and rebuild their trust. What was he waiting for?

Mickey typed back and closed his eyes. He wasn’t like this before. He didn’t over think every little thing between them and now that he was out of the closet, away from his dad, he shouldn’t have anything to be afraid of. Ian was still stabilizing and Mickey wanted nothing more than to help him cope. Despite that, he was scared of being hurt again and scared of somehow screwing up and hurting Ian. He was a coward.

“When do you start?”

“Monday. Are you bothered?”

Monday huh? That was tomorrow. Mickey reread their conversation and his stomach turned The way he talked to Ian. . . He was such a dick.

In all the time they spent apart he thought about a lot of things, after he started getting his shit together of course, and promised himself he wouldn’t love Ian again. When he was drunk and when he wasn’t and when he was about to fall asleep and when he woke up, he kept repeating it over and over. He wouldn’t go after Ian and he would fall out of love with him. This would protect both of them from each other.

“Just tired,” Mickey texted and heard the bus engine in the distance. As it was getting closer, he read the instant reply.

“Sweet dreams. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

Just a sentence. Just hand holding. Just a kiss. All these things that Ian did to him were breaking his defenses down. He was too nervous to reply and put the phone away when the bus finally pulled up.

**  
**

Work used to be relaxing and now he wished he could go back to pimping. Mickey came in early so he could make up for skipping out yesterday and unfortunately, John was there. He greeted Mickey and didn’t mention the dip out. John seemed to be in a good mood for the next couple of hours but Mickey was having trouble concentrating. He kept glancing at the door, keeping his ears perked for the little jingle and whenever it did jingle, he looked up expectantly but it was just a customer.

He walked up and down the aisles and tipped the water can so he could fill the vases. The door jingled in the middle of watering some bluebells and there was Ian. The minute he appeared, he was addressed by John who tossed him an apron and went into giving store instructions. Ian disappeared with John into the back of the store and Mickey crouched down to water another pot. His mind was running in circles over what could be happening between those two. Angry, Mickey spaced out and jumped when water started spilling out of the flowerpot and onto his shoes. Fuck. They were sopping now.

Mickey used his apron to dry what he could and dumped the excess water from the pot into the garbage. Luckily, John and Ian didn’t return until Mickey put the vase back on the shelf. They were nudging each other and Ian didn’t look in Mickey’s direction even once. Just friends? Really? They looked like they were about to fuck right in front of Mickey. He moved to another shelf so his eyes weren’t drifting off on those two. He had to calm down. Whatever Ian did with this guy was up to Ian even if the fucker did lie to his face about being just friends with him.

With dainty precision, he sorted some of the tulips around. They were beautifully bright but the arrangement was sloppy so he fixed it up and heard a snicker behind him. Mickey smoothed out the stems and moved on to another vase.

“Say something and I’ll shove this can down your throat.”

“This is great,” Ian laughed and Mickey nodded slowly.

“Laugh it up, Gallagher, this is about to be your new life, bitch.”

Ian laughed quietly and his hand brushed against Mickey’s waist as he passed him. They worked in silence for about an hour, setting up deliveries, and helping customers every now and then. John kept calling Ian to the front to give him more instructions but it always ended in whispering and Mickey’s eyes didn’t leave the clock for another agonizing hour.

“Tonight? That sounds good,” Mickey heard Ian say and John looked pleased. His shift wasn’t quite done but Mickey didn’t care anymore and ripped his apron off before he headed out the door. It was already evening so Mickey was going to rent a movie and take the rest of the day to chill at home. He walked to the redbox down the strip and swiped through the selection. First he checked the actions but it was all shit so he moved on to horrors. There were a few decent ones out that he could find some entertainment in and in the middle of his decision, someone ran up to him.

“I was calling after you,” Ian breathed out and stood at Mickey’s side. He stared at Mickey’s eyes which were reflecting the glow of the redbox monitor. Mickey switched back and forth between three movies and then narrowed it down to two.

“Don’t you got plans?”

Ian leaned against the box and pushed one film.

"We'll do Amityville. Supposed to be scary."

"'We' as in me and a cold one?"  Mickey questioned.  It was the DVD he wanted to see more but it irked him that Ian ultimately made the choice for him.

"No plans," he answered and reached for two bucks from his pocket. Mickey got to the machine with his own money first.

"Maybe you should find some."

When Mickey said it, Ian looked concerned but followed him as he went on his way nonetheless.

"I still have three hours before I'm meeting John so let me watch it with you."

So he did have plans? Mickey turned the corner and sat at the bus stop, shortly followed by Ian. It was cloudy out and the sun was setting against the horizon. The sound of the cars swishing by was pleasant to Mickey who had nothing better to do than wait. When Ian took the spot next to him, he raised an eyebrow.

"Can I have a second alone for fuck's sake?"

Ian leaned closer from his side of the seat.

"Mickey, you've been giving me the cold shoulder all day. Are you pissed or something? You don't want me to work with you?"

Mickey averted Ian's eyes and tapped nervously on the bench arm. 

"Is it because I asked John instead of you? I told you we're friends."

"Didn't suck him off at the store?" Mickey asked but when it slipped out he regretted it. Ian stood up, upset.

"I confessed to you. I'm not fucking around, Mick."

Mickey stayed silent. He stared out at the buildings, watched the people, anything to avoid Ian's penetrating eyes.

"You already came out. What are you hiding from?" Ian whispered.

Mickey searched for something to say but it was like someone stuffed tissue into his throat and he couldn't speak.

"You want to be with me," Ian said softly and backed up a few steps. "I'll get you to trust me, Mick."

There was a moment where Ian seemed to be trying to find something in Mickey's face but when the other wouldn't return his gaze he shook his head and left. As the clouds grew thicker above the city, Mickey sat motionless. The bus pulled up and pulled off and Mickey stayed where he was.

**  
  
  
  
  
**


	5. Silent Storm

For Mickey, being with Ian was by chance. He woke up that day to Ian in his room with a crowbar and after tossing each other around and pinning Ian to his bed, tired as fuck, Mickey looked into Ian’s eyes and something just clicked with them. Without a word they were getting undressed and then they were having sex, the best sex of Mickey’s life at the time, and none of it was supposed to happen but it did. The way Ian gazed at Mickey when they finished, Ian only half dressed as he leaned over to kiss him, that was when he could tell that something more than just fucking was there for the red head. So, Mickey denied him that affection and for the next couple of years, strung him along.

He knew that Ian was beyond jealous of his fuck with Angie and he wasn’t so oblivious to the hints Ian dropped every now and then, those hints that were meant to make Mickey wake up and realize he wanted Mickey to be his. How the fuck was it fair that when Mickey finally started letting himself feel back it ended in all those feelings getting crushed? In the back of his mind, there was that tiny voice saying it would become a cycle of love and pain if he opened up like before.

This all went through his mind as he filled some of the plants in the shop. The dirt was cold on his fingertips but it was soothing to push the soft, brittle soil against the flower stems until it was solid. He noticed Ian trying to catch his eye but Mickey acted busy and if there was a chance to talk, he would make excuses about work that needed doing. Eventually, Ian seemed to give up approaching him and for lunch hour, went to get coffee with John who was all for treating Ian.

So far, the bipolar disorder seemed completely under Ian’s control. He was hardly depressed, hardly manic, maybe pissed at Mickey but other than that, totally fine. When the two left the store, Mickey opened the internet on his phone and parked himself on the floor so he could read through his bookmarked pages. All kinds of information about Bipolar disorder, how to take care of someone with it, how to make it easier, how to be there for them. He scrolled endlessly instead of getting lunch. When the door jingled and Ian returned, the phone went up and it was back to work.

John barely spoke to Mickey unless absolutely necessary but every so often, he would ask for a favor and when he had some deliveries to gift in the back, Mickey was more than willing. The back room was freezing so that the plants could be kept fresh longer but Mickey almost relished in the cold if it meant not watching Ian flirt. He crammed some dark roses into a velvet covered vase and extended the leaves so it was more presentable. Now he had to snip off the thorns. His hand shook slightly because it was so cold but he persevered and took his time to cleanly trim. When the door flew open behind him, his hand slipped and a thorn got stuck in his thumb

“Fuck!” he sneered and plucked it out so he could suck the area.

Ian walked by him and crouched down to move some cardboard boxes. Mickey’s eyes flickered to Ian’s small form and he felt so pathetic, so jealous and pathetic.

“Hey, we got bandaids?”

Ian shoved a few boxes to the corner and scanned his finger along the numbers and barcodes.

“Depends. Are we talking?”

“Want me to bleed all over these roses? Where are the bandaids?”

Ian made a breathy sound and continued tracking the package he needed.

“What? Badass Mickey Milkovich needs a bandaid for his ittie bittie sore?”

“Fuck off.”

Ian pushed more boxes to the side, dug one out, and carried it with one arm before he headed to the door. He didn’t spare Mickey a glance as he exited.

For the next few days, it was like this. Mickey was a ghost in the store, not that he wasn’t doing it to himself, and Ian and John worked with friendly chatter. Meanwhile, Mickey brushed up on Ian’s disorder every lunch hour. Every trip home was tiring and he was weak from eating little lately. The days passed by and Mickey felt like he was trapped in the same place, work, home, work, home, read, work and home. It was mindless and static and he was building up a silent rage over it.

What the hell was Mickey doing, laying out on his living room floor and tossing a ping pong ball into the air over and over? He was dizzy, bored, and buzzed. It was funny how Ian, the one with bipolar, was so cool while Mickey couldn’t stop being angry and depressed.

“Don't assume that you know what he or she is going through,” Mickey recited out loud. He just finished the book on Bipolar he checked out from the library but half of what it said was in that scientific language he could barely understand. The parts he did get were half lost in his brain from downing booze through the reading. The ping pong ball fell into his hand only to be tossed back up and Mickey continued to recite, “Ask how you can help.”

Amityville was forgotten on the table somewhere. it was too bad because the storm outside was providing a great atmosphere to watch it in. Another clash of thunder vibrated the floor beneath Mickey and he failed to catch the ping pong ball this time. It rolled behind the couch.

There was another boom and the lights flickered out. He would have gotten angry if he didn't already feel so wired. After listening to a few more rumbles, laying in dark solitude, there was a frantic knock on the door. If it was a fucking neighbour asking for candles he would flip them off. Mickey ignored it and the knocking thumped harder. Groaning, Mickey managed to inch his way to the front door and opened it, saying in a gruff voice, "I ain't got no candles."

To his surprise, it was Ian. He was soaked and trying to catch his breath. His red hair was so dark it was almost black and clung to his forehead in thick, wet curls. Water dripped from his face and clothes and his eyes were like a stormy sea.

"Gallagher? What the hell?"

He expected "I need to see you,", like those other times where Ian came to the door, looking like he raced miles to find Mickey, but instead Ian said, "You were right. He wanted to be more than friends."

Mickey had to process that.

"What? The flower kid?"

"Everyone always wants something from me, Mick."

Mickey swooned and grabbed the doorframe to steady himself.

"Are you drunk?"

"Buzzed" Mickey corrected and rested his body to the door. Ian's breath was slowing and Mickey couldn't keep his eyes off him now. His heartbeat was going irregular under Ian’s anxious gaze.

"Wanna warm up?" Mickey asked and stuck his thumb out to the blackness behind him. Oh right the electricity was shot. A roll of thunder made way through the sky outside and lightning cascaded through the clouds. The sound of heavy rain fell against the roof and windows. As Mickey waited for a reply, lightning flashed and lit up the whole room, lit up Ian's beautiful eyes. There was something there, a longing, or maybe it was Mickey’s wishful thinking.

Ian moved forward suddenly, urgently, his hands clutching into Mickeys shirt and his lips pressed against Mickey's and he was pushing him back into his house, shutting the hallway door with his foot. He kissed Mickey roughly and his trembling fingers found Mickey's hair to hold onto him.

More thunder and Mickey had to grab Ian’s coat so he didn't fall over. His head was swimming as Ian kissed him more and more. Ian’s lips were cold, soft, and feverish and he didn’t stop pushing forward. Mickey’s eyes fluttered beneath his shut eyelids when Ian caressed his face and left trails along his shoulders and arms. WIth a shudder, Mickey responded to the kissing and pushed back, moving closer.

This wasn’t like their first time, when the affair was quick and to the point, this was overwhelming and Mickey could have sworn he was under water. His head clouded but somehow he could feel and hear and see so much clearer than before. Ian’s nose brushed against Mickey’s when he pulled away momentarily, his lips hovering and needing.

The room flashed brightly when Ian pushed Mickey into the cushions of the sofa, their faces never disconnecting. He toppled on top of him. Ian took the slightest second to slip his coat off and toss it to the floor and subconsciously Mickey grazed his hands across Ian’s arms when Ian returned to him. His skin was icy to the touch unlike Mickey’s which burned from his buzz.

The rain picked up on the window but Mickey could barely hear it with Ian’s panting against his ear and his own thumping heartbeat. He was trying to get some air while Ian kissed along the side of his neck and undid the top buttons of Mickeys shirt so he could kiss the skin there too. His wet collar pressed into Mickey’s warm skin and when Mickey trembled, Ian pulled the damp clothing over his head and threw it into the dark.

Warmth spread through Mickey’s body when his lips were kissed again, slower this time but Ian still kissed Mickey like he was afraid of stopping. As the thunder grew louder, they fell closer into each other and Ian’s fingers were curling into Mickey’s sides when he lifted his weight a bit.

“I love you,” Ian spoke, his voice cracking, and that’s when Mickey saw the tears dripping from his eyelashes, mixing with the rainwater. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and he looked so broken that Mickey was pulled out of his daze. Ian's ocean eyes were wide as his body convulsed and he hastily put a hand to his mouth so that the sob didn’t break out.

“Ian. . . “ Mickey trailed off and the heat drained from his body when Ian squeezed his eyes shut in shame. There was another crackle of thunder and light spread throughout the room. Mickey enveloped Ian into himself, letting Ian's hair tickle the side of his face and letting Ian grasp onto him. He kissed Ian’s hair and gently stroked the strands, feeling him bury his face into Mickey’s shoulder which muffled his whimpers.

“It’s okay,” Mickey said soothingly and didn’t let go. The storm raged beyond the glass pane of the window but Mickey didn’t pay it any attention. He layed Ian down and ran his hand along Ian’s back, trying to warm him up. Soon enough, Ian’s breathing evened out and his body stopped shaking. Mickey felt the tension leave the other’s muscles and he knew Ian had fallen asleep.

When Mickey woke up, there was some light flooding in through the window. He was on the sofa and wondered what the hell he was doing there until his eyes landed on a dark bundle on the carpet. It was Ian’s coat. His head was throbbing when he hopped off the sofa and examined it.

“Ian?” He called out, the memories from the night coming back. There was no answer so he scouted the other few rooms but Ian was gone. He whipped out his phone to call him but it went straight to voicemail.

“Fuck,” Mickey glowered and slammed the door shut on his way out. He called the Gallaghers but nobody had seen him since he left for work the other morning. Frustrated, Mickey called the flower shop. John was working and said Ian never came to the store and he sounded less chipper today. Mickey crossed the street and shoved a hand in his pocket.

“I don’t know what the fuck you tried to pull with Ian but if you do something again, I’ll make sure the cops can’t identify your body.”

John had nothing to say so Mickey hung up.

He didn’t even know where to start looking. Where the fuck would Ian go? His other choices for escape were so sporadic before that Mickey couldn’t link anything together. There was the army and Boystown, both of which were highly unlikely, so Mickey was stuck. Where else did Ian go? Kash and Grab? What would compel him to go there? Was he having an episode or did he just run out to grab a coffee? Either way, Mickey couldn’t keep himself from cursing and dialed Ian again. No answer.

He spent hours on the streets near their houses, trying to get a clue but the chances of running into him were almost zero. He called Mandy next but she said she hadn’t seen him for a week. Was everyone this fucking useless and detached from Ian they couldn’t give him something to go on? Fuck it, Mickey thought, and made his way to Boystown. After all, Ian said during their months apart, he snuck off with guys and did drugs, and what better place for that?

He crashed through the club where Ian formerly worked, after avoiding some horny pursuers, but there was no sign of him. When he left the scene, he called in his last attempt and this time, Ian’s voice was on the other line.

“Hello?”

“Where the fuck are you?” Mickey blurted. Ian didn’t answer right away so Mickey said, in a calmer voice, “You left your coat. You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? You ever had apple pie, Mick? This stuff is so fucking good!”

Mickey could hear people chatting wherever Ian was at.

“That brings me back to my original question. Where the fuck are you?”

“Chill out,” Ian laughed and then his voice seemed to be distant from the phone when there was a lot of yelling.

“Watch it,’ he heard Ian say jokingly and then he was back at the phone.

“I gotta go, Mick. We’re about to cut the cake.”

“Ian, where are you?” Mickey shouted. “I’m gonna lose my shit over here if you hang up.”

“It’s just a birthday party, Mickey. What’s wrong with that? I’ll talk to you later!” Ian laughed and then the phone clicked. Mickey’s mouth hung open briefly until he dialed the number again. Nobody picked up and Mickey almost threw the phone to the wall. Birthday party? What the fuck? He rubbed his hands through his hair and paced in circles for a moment to calm down. Ian cried in his arms last night, really broke down, and now he was off at a fucking birthday party. If that wasn’t a manic episode he didn’t know what the fuck was.

He could only sit by while Ian did whatever the hell he was doing and maybe, just maybe, Ian would be okay.


	6. Lights Across The Water

_I love you._

Mickey was turning those words in his head, spinning it, flipping it, doing whatever he could to relive that moment when Ian had him pinned and whispered it into the dark. Now that he was out of that former haze, he was feeling guilty. Sure, Mickey technically said ‘I love you’ first between the two of them, but Ian was always the one who really meant it and really broke from it. Maybe that was just Mickey convincing himself that, pushing away from the idea that he could ever be with Ian the way Ian wanted to be with him. He had deep feelings for Ian, deeper than he ever dreamed possible, and it was drowning him into a place he was afraid of being.

It wasn’t a mistake, what happened during the storm, and Mickey didn’t stop Ian from sinking in and claiming Mickey, didn’t stop him from breaking down those walls Mickey spent the last three months building up. Ian was fragile, clearly, and how did Mick miss that? How did it not cross his mind that Ian was acting rash and impulsive, that manner that made him more dangerous than Mickey himself?

What was he feeling for Ian now? He couldn’t say the words back, that’s for sure. Mickey was such an asshole, such a piece of shit who couldn’t do anything but wallow in his own self pity. What the fuck did Ian see in him? Yeah, Ian had fucked up just as much, but that’s because Mickey fucked up first.

The new shipment of sunflowers were making the store smell like a sunny meadow. He felt like the sun might as well pop up on the ceiling and shed light over all these thoughts. Watering the flowers was more of a hassle than anything today because all he could think about was Ian being off making a porn video or stabbing some hobo behind a dumpster. He didn't realize he was this screwed up after watching Ian crash and burn from the moment he didn't get out of bed to the break up.

The door jingled at the front and when he saw who it was, Mickey was across the store so fast that he dropped the water can from his grip. He shoved Ian into the glass door and kept his palm against his chest to keep him there. Ian looked shocked but intrigued by the hostility and John was watching the two from the counter.

“You’re dead, you know that?” he growled and Ian looked down at Mickey with eyes that said he really didn’t understand. Mickey couldn’t talk to him like this, not with flower man watching so intensely over his shoulder. He knew John didn’t have the balls to stand up to Mickey who dragged Ian to the back freezer. When he closed the door behind him, Ian tilted his head.

“What’s up, Mick?”

He looked so innocent and confused that it was hard to be as angry as he was feeling. And then Mickey realized the situation. He almost fell into that pain and love that went hand in hand with each other when it came to Ian. Not only that but he couldn’t prevent Ian from crying or respond to his confession, not even stop him from running off in the morning. It wasn't just Ian running off, it was Mickey's self loathing making him so paranoid.

Rather than jump to all kinds of crazy conclusions, Mickey let out a sigh and leaned against the door, keeping his eyes low.

“You okay, Gallagher? You kind of ran out on me yesterday.”

Then Ian smiled slightly and it was one of those hidden smiles that could make Mickey literally do anything the redhead wanted at the drop of a hat. He was like play dough in Ian’s fingers when he smiled like that.

“Oh? You want to continue where we left off last night?”

Mickey blushed and bowed his head lower into his scrunched shoulders.

“Really wanna fuck in a freezer? You know what the fuck I mean. You skipping out, disappearing at some goddamn birthday party after you were getting the couch soaked with all that crying.”

Ian didn’t look offended despite the harsh remarks and he just shrugged.

“I was hungry and some friends invited me over. You looked really tired so I didn’t want to wake you.”

It was rational and it made sense but there was an ache in Mickey’s chest because he knew Ian. He knew that there was no way in hell Ian would have slipped out without something from Mickey, an answer, something to alleviate that pain Ian dealt with because he never got responses, at least not out loud. Last night he said the three words instead of just screwing Mickey, that meant something, he wanted to get something through Mickey's thick skull, so nothing would have torn him away after that. Nothing but an episode.

Not until recently, right before the break up, Mickey started to respond to that kind of touchy feely crap and that’s when Ian didn’t. He could have told Ian he spent half the day looking for him but wasn’t that Mickey’s own fault? His need to care for Ian was so beyond his own control he was suddenly the one being illogical and jumping to conclusions, running around the city with his screws loose.

There were dark spots under Ian’s eyes but other than that he was shining. Mickey remembered it being like this before, when Ian was over the moon and then he had a knife to a man’s throat and that was when nobody knew about the bipolar. He didn’t want to think of Ian that way, someone with an incurable disease but as a person who just needed more attention and help than he did before. He wanted to treat Ian like always, he could do a better job he knew, but he didn’t want to be on him about his meds and his choices and all that shit. The people at home were probably good enough at that.

“Whatever,” Mickey settled with because anything else would lead into either touching or fighting, neither of which he could handle. There was something unspoken and Mickey knew that Ian wondered where they stood. It was that need for confirmation that Mickey always hated because it drove him into a corner and he always ended up trapped, needing to crawl his way out of it. He had to choose words carefully, avoid other entirely, and forever walk on eggshells. Well, he didn’t  _have_  to but Mickey was never good at making the right choices, too stubborn or too weak.

Not being pressed any further, Ian just moved passed Mickey and let the door fall between them. As it rocked on the hinges, Mickey turned his head. It was silly but he had a feeling he needed to do something, anything. Fucking give Ian something.

“Wait,” he tried, the word fumbling over his lips, but it was too late.

 

In the middle of the night, Mickey unfortunately ran out of alcohol and had to lay on the couch, sober, until he could fall asleep. It was hard because while the electricity was fixed, the heat was wack and he might as well have taken a blanket and made a home out of the flower shop freezer. He couldn’t get comfortable on the sofa no matter what angle he moved.

Suddenly the phone vibrated on the coffee table. He blinked, hardly responsive. It continued to buzz and at first he was going to ignore it because nobody should be calling him at midnight but having nothing better to do, he sighed and answered.

“I’ll bring some money tomorrow,” Mickey said darkly, expecting Svetlana. There was a hushed breathing on the other end and then the person spoke.

“I poured the meds out again."

Ian was hardly audible but Mickey caught the stutter, the atmosphere of something being completely wrong. He slowly sat up and dug his nails into the couch. 

“It’s not like they’re helping much anyways, right? I’m all fucked.”

The voice that normally warmed Mickey's cheeks, melted his heart, clung to his memory, Ian's voice was not sweet like honey but it was icy and detached. Shooting up, Mickey rushed out the door and descended the stairs to the apartment complex exit. He almost fell but never slowed, even when he banged his ankle against the door leading outside.

“Where the fuck are you, Ian?”

He was gripping the phone so tightly that his knuckles were turning white and he could hear Ian’s soft breathing from the other line, it was on and off.

“Hm? Where? Do  you really give a shit, Mick? Don’t pretend, okay? I’m tired of it.”

Ian sounded more hurt than anything but Mickey just kept the conversation going, running closer to Ian’s street.

“Who the fuck’s pretending? Where are you?”

There was hardly any noise in the background so Ian had to be somewhere quiet. He skidded to a stop.

“I’m sick and that’s all I’ll ever be. They won’t stop looking at me like any second now I’ll blow up and do something bat shit crazy. I have to live with this, burden everyone, what am I living for?”

Mickey bit down on his lip and his eyes flew around but he had no way of finding Ian. There were so many things he wanted to say to that. Live because you're Ian Gallagher, the person who saved so many people with that killer smile and who didn't give up even when things went to hell. Live because I need you more than water and air. Live so I can show you more than just sex and give you more than lies.

“Ian, I swear to you that you’re fine. You’re getting better with your meds. Hey, you haven’t killed anyone and that’s gotta count for something.”

“Except it isn’t cured,” Ian said lowly. “I’ll never be cured. I’ll hurt someone or kill someone, who knows? The medicine didn’t stop the nightmares, didn’t change the way my family looked at me, didn’t make you trust me, it didn’t help. I’m always going to have this fucking disorder for the rest of my life.”

They were both quiet for a few seconds and Mickey was panicking. Where was Ian at? Definitely not at the house if he was talking like this. 

“I keep trying to skip these rocks,” Ian said and Mickey perked up, “but they just sink. That’s like me, isn’t it? I’m just a broken rock that can’t skip.”

Mickey was turning and blinking rapidly, his body was tingling. Ian was near water. That wasn't a big fucking clue but he was getting somewhere.

“Let me show you how it’s done then because you apparently just suck,” Mickey replied. He tried to sound harsh but he could hear the strain and alarm in his own voice, hopefully Ian couldn't. Ian chuckled and it was dark, seeping under Mickey’s skin like poison.

“You don’t have to hang out with me, Mickey. I’m always forcing you but I won’t do that anymore.”

“I want to, dumbass. You think anybody could force a Milkovich to do something they didn’t want to do? Not unless they had a gun to my head and even then, it ain’t happening.”

“You do for me.”

Ian sounded hopeful, like it took all his courage to put that in the open. Mickey let his pride go and nodded, almost forgetting Ian wasn’t there.

“Yeah, well, the least you could do to pay me back is give me a head’s up on where you’re throwing these rocks at.”

There was just the slightest hesitation before Ian said, “Southside dock,” and it was almost an afterthought, like he was only telling Mickey because it wasn’t important at this point. Changing streets, Mickey was heading in that direction as fast as his legs could carry him. The dock was less than ten minutes if he was quick enough. Luckily Mickey knew what shortcut to take.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out abruptly.

It must have been a shock for Ian because the phone might as well have went dead. He continued running towards the intersection, sucking air in sharply when he was cut off by a speeding car. He ran into the traffic, not caring about the horns in his ear or how the lights were making it hard to see, he just ran and ran until his lungs were on fire. 

“Mickey?” Ian questioned, probably about the loud car beeping.

“I was wrong. I was wrong about everything.”

He had to pause, once on the other side of the road, so he could climb a rusty fence that lead into the park. He cut his hands on the way but the pain was numb, like everywhere else.

“You’re not fucking crazy or sick or any of that shit you keep hearing. I was an idiot for getting you the meds just to treat you like they didn’t work. I was an asshole for thinking months of pain meant more than years of-” he stopped and stumbled, his knee scraping hard across the rough ground. The grass was dry and the dirt rubbed up into his injury. He winced and picked the phone up which now had a crack along the corner.

“I’m a fucking screw up, Ian. I might as well have this bipolar shit because I’m all over the place.”

He ran on, through a long field in the park that was closed at this time of night. He hopped another fence and couldn’t even tell if he was getting oxygen or if he was still running. It was all a blur of dark shapes and distant lights now.

“So, you’re going to have that disorder for the rest of your life? Yeah, join the rest of us. We’re all fucking crazy and sick in the head. I’m stuck with a shitty personality for life. You wanna stick it out together or not?”

He couldn’t see Ian but he knew Ian was still listening. Mickey’s shoe was suddenly wet. He must have hit a puddle. Damn, how many shoes was that this week? 

“Let me tell you something, Gallagher,” Mickey exhaled deeply and inhaled just as hard.

“I didn’t sign up for you breaking up with me and all those mood swings. Goddamn you can get so moody,” he mumbled. “But you didn’t sign up for me treating you like complete garbage, huh?”

“You don’t,” Ian piped in and he was sniffing. Out of everything Mickey said, leave it to Ian to zero in on that point. His heart was breaking because instead of agreeing with all the kindness Mickey was maybe succeeding, maybe failing, at dumping on Ian, he chose to defend Mickey.

“Shut the fuck up,” he retorted before continuing. “You didn’t sign up to have bipolar either or to have the world stop spinning on it’s axis because you couldn’t be just Ian Gallagher anymore without being the Gallagher with bipolar. Mania, depression, whatever, it doesn’t matter to me. Don’t run away this time, because I’m not going anywhere just because you have a little mood problem. You hear me, Ian?”

He brushed passed bushes and hit his extended elbow into tree bark but the cuts and bruises were nothing compared to that crushing weight all over his chest and limbs and head.

“I’m no doctor and I don’t even know if all that reading I’ve been doing is going to help me but fuck, it’s worth doing something if it means you aren’t crying.”

He was completely winded and he didn’t even know how he could form actual sounds anymore. Mickey was on the verge of blacking out when he scrambled over one more fence, the Southside dock only yards away. He could make out Ian’s outline, the lights across the water from the distant city illuminating him. There wasn’t a soul in sight to see Mickey fly out of the park, stamp over the sidewalk, and slow down to a reasonable jog up to where Ian was staring out. He had his eyes on the water, the phone to his ear.

“Guess I was too late to stop that though,” Mickey coughed, dropping the phone from his hand so he could bend over and get whatever air was possible. Ian whipped around and his hand fell from his ear. There were tears spilling freely down his cheeks as he looked at Mickey like he wasn’t real.

“I’ll take care of you,” Mickey wheezed. His hands were spotting blood on his ripped jeans and he was sweating beneath his clothes. His shoes were drenched and his hair had a couple leaves falling out of it.

“I look like I just escaped a nut house,” he tried to laugh but it just came out in gasps. Ian was at the edge of the dock, stiff and in disbelief.

“Don’t do it,” Mickey went on and while his torso was hunched over in pain, he raised his head.

“Don’t do what?” Ian asked, tear stained and visibly an emotional wreck, his eyes serious and forlorn.

“Jump in the water or whatever the hell you were planning. I’m going to have to jump after you and shit and it’s going to hurt like a bitch getting that dirty ass water in all these wounds. Save us the trouble.”

Ian turned back to the water and his hair and clothing rippled in the wind. Mickey was overjoyed when the breeze cooled his overheating body, the rips in his shirt and jeans coming in handy. As the wind died down, the water below became still again, like a solid sheet of glass.

“You didn’t have to come here,” Ian said softly and there was still that sadness in his voice, that lost hope. Both hands were on the dock railing now and he looked tense.

“Don’t,” Mickey repeated. He was brought back to when Ian left for the army, when Mickey could only feel pity on himself and ignore the things he really wanted to say. He let the best thing that ever happened to him walk out and he could have prevented it. 

“Don’t leave me.”

The words carried off into the wind and across the water, up into the sky. What he should have said, so many times but never did. There was a slight movement as Ian put a foot up on the dock and his body arched forward a bit like he had to make a decision and fast.

“I don’t have the right to tell you that, I know,” Mickey laughed bitterly and the air was finally starting to come back to him. “I’m the reason you left the first time. I didn’t chase you, ‘like some bitch’, wasn’t it?”

There was nothing funny about it so Mickey let his laughter die in his throat and he moved forward, feeling the bones in his body practically crumbling. Ian’s fingers were tight around the rail and he was pulling himself up slightly, shaking.

“You said yourself we both fuck up but we can fix it,” Mickey murmured and he was only steps away from Ian now. “Let’s fix it.” 

The city was glowing across the lake, creating twinkling stars over the water and making the planet seem like it froze in time. There were no clouds, there was no wind, there was only Ian, the only thing that mattered and would ever really matter to Mickey.

“Go home, Mick,” Ian choked and Mickey’s footsteps haltered.

“Where? To the wife that raped me? To my wonderful piece of shit dad?”

He could almost reach out to Ian who was bent further over the rail after shifting his weight, his eyes downcast on the icy, unforgiving lake below. Mickey sucked in one more breath and felt his heart slowing in his chest.

“No thanks. I’m staying here because you’re the closest fucking thing to a home I’ll ever have.”

Then before Ian had a chance, he grabbed him from behind, pulled him safely away from the edge and into his arms. His hands found Ian’s and his breath was on the back of Ian’s neck. They were both just breathing for a long time and Mickey was afraid Ian would shove him away and fling himself over the railing but that never happened because Ian was complete jello in Mickey’s embrace. His body leaned back into the touch on instinct and when it did, Mickey held on tighter and breathed in Ian’s scent and buried his head into Ian’s neck, letting all the fear and panic come down.

“I’m never going to stop loving you, Ian Gallagher.”

 


	7. Take Your Breath Away

 

Mickey blinked so his vision could unblur and he felt like someone just finished beating him with a bag of bricks. He craned his neck, which was submerged in dewy grass, and found Ian’s sleeping face at his side. His eyes were shut, his lips slightly parted, and he looked carved from marble, too serene. Ian’s head was heavy on Mickey’s draped out arm and it was going numb but he was careful not to move.

It was so quiet, it was hard to believe they were still in Chicago. There was a sliver of light on the city horizon, shimmering against the edge of the wide lake in front of the dock. Mickey didn’t really remember passing out on the ground with Ian but here he was, scabbed over on the knuckles, dry blood on his jeans, and Ian was unscathed, snoozing like it didn’t matter if the world was ending around them or not.

That wasn’t true though, Mickey knew that the cuts over his cheek were nothing compared to the trauma Ian had been overcoming inside. He let his eyes rest lazily on Ian’s face for a while, amazed at how peacefully he was sleeping after, only hours ago, he tried to end his life. His hand was clutching softly onto Mickey’s shirt, bundled up into the fabric like the last thing he would do is let go. That kind of trust made Mickey’s features soften and the stress his body endured was well worth the floating feeling going through him now.

The sky was a pale gray and while the air was cool, Mickey felt comfortable and warm with Ian snuggled up against him, their legs just barely touching and their faces inches apart. He was so close, Ian’s cold breath was hitting his neck, sending tiny shivers with each rise and fall of Ian’s chest.

About to doze back off, Mickey was jolted awake when Ian stirred. Half lidded eyes looked back at him and Mickey so embarrassed he wanted to look away but didn’t, and a smile crept it’s way across Ian’s face.

“You admitted it,” he said, barely above a whisper even though they were the only two by the lake.

“What?” Mickey stuttered as Ian’s fingers started playing with a loose string on the fabric at Mickey’s shoulder.

“That you love me.”

Mickey blushed and while everything told him to run away from all this, he was rooted.

“Fuck, Ian, it wasn’t the first time.”

“Yeah, but you said you would never stop,” Ian smiled dreamily and traced Mickey’s bicep. There was a brief silence where Mickey could try and slow his racing thoughts and then he blinked. That itching but somehow comforting feeling of Ian’s breath and touch were making him lose it.

“Who the fuck was the one showing up on my doorstep in the middle of the night to say it?”

“That’s,” Ian started and then his smile fell, “That’s because I never told you before.”

“Sure as hell didn’t,” Mickey retorted, staying stern.

“You always say you love me when I’m about to lose my shit.”

“What do you mean ‘almost’? Kidnapping my kid doesn’t count as losing your shit?”

That’s when Mickey remembered that Ian didn’t know about that ‘I love you’. The one  he left on Ian’s voicemail. Ian scooted slightly closer and hummed into Mickey’s sleeve.

“I listen to it every night. You saying you’re worried about me and that you love me. That helped me stay a little bit myself.”

Mickey’s chest tightened and with bated breath, he listened to Ian continue.

“When I got out of the psych ward and Fiona finally gave me my phone, I listened to that message and I knew I had to end it with you. I was a psycho and you deserved better, Mickey. It took a while for the words to get through to me but eventually I heard them. I kept listening to it, wishing I could take back hurting you.”

The water lightened along with the sky, the gray becoming whiter as the sun peaked through the city skyline. Ian opened his eyes and he was smiling again, his eyes sad.

“But I’m selfish and I need you so I promised myself I wouldn’t let go this time.”

“You fucking tried to jump off the dock,” Mickey replied, shifting under Ian’s gaze.

“Yeah, that’s because I thought you were a lost cause and I didn’t want to live without you anymore.”

“Fuck, Ian,” Mickey sighed, sounding less angry than he did irritated. “I was about to flip the fuck out.”

“You kinda did flip the fuck out,” Ian grinned and they locked eyes, Mickey wanting to glare and Ian looking apologetic. After a few heartbeats, they were both laughing, rolling slightly over the grass, bumping into each other through gasps. They laughed for a good minute before Ian rolled himself closer to Mickey and eased himself up enough to peer down into Mickey’s face.

“Thanks, Mick.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Mickey flushed, not tearing his eyes away for a second. “If I don’t stop you from fucking up, who will?”

Mickey knew that Ian took his insult as affection, one thing that made him nervous, and it was confirmed when Ian leaned down, his palm at Mickey’s chest, and his lips ghosted over Mickey's own for a few seconds before he kissed him. It was gentle and sweet, creating little butterflies in Mickey’s stomach. Chicago seemed to be dimming around them, unimportant and forgotten. Ian pulled back to calculate Mickey’s expression, like he wanted to make sure it was okay, before smiling and kissing him again.

Instantly, Mickey’s fingers tangled into Ian’s hair and down to Ian’s cheek. He didn’t know how the fuck he ever denied Ian anything, especially a kiss, because this was amazing. They didn’t stop kissing, slowly but heavily, until they needed to breathe. Their noses brushed, their eyelids fluttered, and even though both could barely breathe, they kept meeting lips, tenderly tasting each other over and over.

Panting, Ian drew back and slowly kissed along Mickey’s neck and the rest of his face. Mickey didn’t open his eyes and moved his hands to Ian’s waist, feeling a bit dizzy.

“I can’t ever fucking breathe with you,” Mickey murmured, noting his adventure to rescue Ian yesterday. He felt him smile against his neck and move over Mickey once more.

“You’re saying I take your breath away, you know.”

“Fuck you, is what I’m saying.”

He laughed and kissed an overly willing Mickey one last time before rolling onto his back. Mickey popped his eyes open, still breathing loudly and looked at Ian’s profile. He looked lost in thought and tucked his head on top of his elbow, raising his eyes.

“Hey, Mick? Is it cool if I come stay with you for a bit?”

There wasn’t any explanation needed because Mickey knew exactly what he meant was ‘can I stay with you because I’m lonely in my own home?’ He turned his eyes up, watching the sky blend into a mint color.

“You cool with your family murdering me?”

“I’ll handle it.”

“Oh, a tough guy,” Mickey scoffed lightheartedly. “Fucking do what you want, man.”

Ian sat up suddenly, his eyes gleaming, reassured.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Mickey sighed and stretched his tingly arm, flopping it around so it could gain the feeling back. He wondered if he was going to regret this later.

“I love you so much, Mickey,” Ian smiled and Mickey sat up too and attempted to distract himself from the embarrassment by flinging the rest of his limbs around to make sure he could still use them.

“Svetlana won’t. I told her I would come back to her.”

“I can help with Yev,” Ian stated, moving closer.

There was a hesitant moment where they were both thinking about the kidnapping and then Mickey laughed.

“Yeah, sure, whatever. I’ll let the bitch call the cops if you take him again though.”

And they both knew that was bullshit but Ian was so ecstatic that instead of pointing that out, he wrapped his arms around Mickey’s neck and hugged him so tightly that Mickey almost fell back.

“The fuck did I just say, Gallagher? I can’t fucking get air.”

Ian loosened his grip but didn’t stop holding Mickey. They stayed like that, listening to the sound of the city coming to life beyond the lake, and eventually Mickey wound his arm around Ian’s back and closed his eyes. Their erratic hearts were beating against one another through their clothes.

“Let’s go get you some more, meds,” Mickey whispered into Ian’s ear, not wanting to leave but it occurred to him that Ian said last night he poured them out. Reluctantly easing back, Ian pressed a delicate kiss across Mickey’s cheek and stood up.

“You think the pharmacy is even open this early, doc?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow and smiling at Mickey with so much trust and happiness that Mickey forgot how to move for a moment.

“If it isn’t fucking open,” Mickey said, moving his aching body to stand, twisting his neck back and forth until he was satisfied that the pain was gone, “I have a few other ideas of how we can pass the time until it is.”

At first Ian seemed puzzled but when Mickey smirked and the light of the sun, now in the sky, sparkled in his mischievous eyes, he pounced at Mickey, toppling them both back into the grass,

“I can’t believe I had to try and kill myself so we could do this,” Ian breathed eagerly into Mickey who was already tugging off Ian’s shirt. When the shirt was off, Mickey was glaring at him.

“That’s not fucking funny.”

Nose to nose, they stared at each other, Ian’s fingers stopping on the buttons of Mickey’s shirt and his other hand hovering over Mickey’s pants buckle. In that fraction of time Ian realized that he was the luckiest person alive, that if it weren’t for Mickey he wouldn’t be sitting here. He would change and make shit better, whatever he had to to make Mickey happy. Whatever he had to do to make _himself_ happy because they both deserved better than the shit South Side put them through and because they were in this together, through thick and thin, like Mickey had once put it.

Mickey leaned up and a smile tugged at his lips the same moment that Ian’s did and before they knew it, they were laughing uncontrollably through loving kisses, their limbs tangling as all the pain, desire, and fear of the future melted together.


End file.
